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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244283">Cavalli Rampante</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deebeesses/pseuds/deebeesses'>deebeesses</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Formula 1 RPF, Formula 2 RPF, Formula E RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Police, Crime Drama, Murder, Murder Mystery, policemen - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:00:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,889</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deebeesses/pseuds/deebeesses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When the owner of a Ferrari dealership is found dead by his top salesman, experienced DI Lewis Hamilton investigates, with the help of his young sergeant.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A white Fiat 124 turned onto the lot full of Ferraris.  It parked on the right side, and the four-cylinder Abarth engine stopped.  A handsome man emerged, dark hair gelled up, clad in a nice gray suit and an on brand red tie.  The man opened the door to the dealership.  It seemed empty.  He went into the offices towards the back.  The door labelled Mattia Binotto was slightly ajar.  </p><p>“Mattia?  Are you in?” The man asks, opening the door.</p><p>Inside, a body lay stretched out on the floor, in a pool of blood.</p><p>———————</p><p>On this particular cloudy April afternoon, Inspector Lewis Hamilton wasn’t investigating anything for the moment.  Instead, he was trying, and failing, to make himself a meal.  He sighed as he flipped the chicken, revealing the blackened underside.  He dumped it in the trash and got a cup of noodles instead.  </p><p>He lived alone, no wife, no kids, and was well into his forties.  He had had a girlfriend a long while ago, but he was so busy with his job that he had failed to notice that Nicole was unhappy.  He only figured it out when she walked out, leaving no trace aside from a note expressing her feelings.  </p><p>The click of the electric kettle pulled Lewis out of his thoughts.  He poured the water in and looked at his phone as he waited for it to cool.  His former Detective Sergeant (or DS), Valtteri Bottas, had sent him a funny picture.  Valtteri, or Val for short, had been Lewis’ number two for nearly a decade, before Superintendent Williams had promoted Val to Inspector.  Lewis still trusts him to handle things, and he has relied on his help many times after his promotion.</p><p>In the picture, Val had a grin on his face, while Lewis had a faint smile as they held their pints up to each other.  Valtteri’s first replacement, a young Frenchman named Esteban Ocon, sat off to Lewis’ left, absentmindedly sipping from a glass of juice.  The text accompanying the picture read:</p><p>Remember to smile once in a while, sir - VB</p><p>Lewis chuckled briefly.  Valtteri always tried to get him to lighten up once in a while, always encouraging him to take a break, or get some more sleep.  </p><p>Ocon hadn’t left as much of a good impression on Lewis.  He had seemed bright enough, eager, hardworking, smart; but he was just too cocky.  Lewis couldn’t stand that.  When they were investigating the death of a student named Lance Stroll, Ocon was convinced the murderer was his Mexican history professor.  He had gone to confront him, which led to an altercation between the two.  Lewis was so pissed off, he personally requested that Ocon be transferred out of the country.  The young sergeant moved back to France, and now works under a very strict Superintendent called Abiteboul.  At least, that’s what Lewis had been told.  Luckily, his current DS, Stoffel Vandoorne, had proved a lot more restrained and quiet, and over the past couple of years, Lewis has gotten quite comfortable with him.</p><p>I’ll get Stoffel on it, Lewis sent in reply.  </p><p>As he dug into his lunch, his phone rang.  </p><p>DS Stoffel Vandoorne<br/>           mobile</p><p>Speak of the devil.  Lewis slid his finger across the bottom of the screen.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The black E-Class turned into the dealer lot, police vehicles littering the remaining space.  As Lewis got out, a young, brown-haired man approached him.  </p><p>“Afternoon, sir,” DS Vandoorne wore a suit similar to Lewis’, but the crookedness of his tie and jacket made it clear he had rushed over.</p><p>“Afternoon, Stoffel.  What’ve we got?”</p><p>“Mattia Binotto, 50 years old.  Owns the dealership.  Found dead by one of his salespeople, Charles Leclerc.”</p><p>They bent underneath the blue and white tape, and were greeted by the body.  Crouched down beside it was the pathologist, Dr. Jenson Button.</p><p>“Hey Jenson.”</p><p>“Ah, Lewis.  Fairly simple; multiple stab wounds in the abdomen,  amount of blood on the floor corroborates the theory that he bled out and died.”</p><p>“Time of death?”</p><p>“Judging by the temperature, seven or eight o’clock this morning.”</p><p>“The dealership opens at 12:00, sir.”  Stoffel added.</p><p>“Ok, thanks Jenson.  See you later for the post mortem.”</p><p>They ducked back under the tape and headed to the showroom, where a man sat in a lounge chair.</p><p>“Mr. Leclerc?”</p><p>“Charles, please.” </p><p>“DI Hamilton.  This is DS Vandoorne. I’d like to ask a few questions if you’re up to it.”</p><p>“Yes, of course,”  Leclerc said shakily.</p><p>“Were you close with Mr. Binotto?”</p><p>“Somewhat.  Much more recently, I put in a good year, now I’m his top salesman.”</p><p>“Are you usually the first in?” questioned Stoffel.</p><p>“Yes.  Mattia encourages—“ he paused, “encouraged me to come in earlier to help him set up, and we typically have a little chat.”</p><p>Lewis studied the man.  He was evidently shaken, pale and trembling.  Blood stained his grey jacket and left hand.</p><p>“Just to establish events,” Lewis said, as he usually does to ensure people don’t get antsy about the next question, “where were you between 6:30 and 8:30 this morning?”</p><p>“Asleep, I woke at about 7:45 and had breakfast with Charlotte,” Charles noticed the slightly confused look on Stoffel’s face and added, “my girlfriend.”</p><p>“Has she ever met Mattia?”</p><p>“No, never.”</p><p>“Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt him?” </p><p>“Umm…” There was a pause.</p><p>“Sebastian Vettel, one of the other salesmen, has been a bit frosty towards him for a while now.  Started telling people what to do, etc.  Some of the guys were saying that Mattia was going to replace him.  His wife Britta also has been a bit harsh towards him recently.”</p><p>“Is she around often?”</p><p>“Yeah, she comes in once in a while.  Britta helps run the place, but she mostly works at home.”</p><p>“Ok, thanks Charles.  You’re free to go for now, head home and calm down a bit.”</p><p>The two policemen walked away from the seating area as Charles got up and left for the door.</p><p>“Stof, stay here and talk to Sebastian when he comes in.  Get statements from the other staff in the meantime.  I’m off to talk to Mrs Binotto.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. III</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lewis pulled onto the driveway of a nice white house.  He was never a fan of this part.  Telling someone that someone they were close to was murdered hits people pretty hard.  Lewis rang the doorbell and took a deep breath.  A blonde lady in a red polo shirt opened the door.  </p><p>“Mrs. Binotto?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Detective Inspector Hamilton, Thames Valley Police.  I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news.”</p><p>A look of concern came onto her face.</p><p>“Your husband was found dead this morning.  I’m very sorry —“</p><p>“How?” Mrs. Binotto cut him off.  She now appeared quite shaken.</p><p>“We believe he was murdered.  If it’s alright, I’d like to ask a few questions.”</p><p>“Just… just a minute.”  She stumbled inside and sat down on a nice sofa.  The house was a bit messy, and it appeared that she had been cleaning.  Two coffee cups sat on the table, and the throw pillows were smushed in.</p><p>Lewis followed suit, standing across from her.</p><p>“Mrs. Binotto —“</p><p>“Britta.  Britta Roeske.  I didn’t take the name.”</p><p>“Britta, how well did you get on with your husband?”</p><p>“Reasonably well, I guess.  I wasn’t on the best terms with him,” her voice cracked up, “at the moment.”</p><p>“When did you last see him?”</p><p>“Last night.  We went to bed, he was gone when I woke up.”</p><p>“What was going on between your husband and Sebastian Vettel?”</p><p>Lewis saw her eyes widen slightly after hearing his name.</p><p>“Umm… I don’t know.  He and Mattia were a bit angry at each other.  I don’t talk to him much.  Talk to his friend Kimi about that.  He used to work for us.  He works for the Alfa dealer across the street now.”</p><p>“Right, thanks.  I’m very sorry.”</p><p>Lewis left the house and got into the car.  He pulled out his phone and called Stoffel.</p><p>———</p><p> </p><p>Back at the dealership, Stoffel spoke to Callum Ilott, Mattia’s secretary.  He didn’t have much to say that was important, but he did mention that Mattia had arranged a meeting with a McLaren salesman.</p><p>“Yesterday he had a meeting with a guy from the McLaren dealer, a Carlos something…” Callum looked at his computer.  “Carlos Sainz.  I think he might have wanted to hire him.  Makes sense, we are one of the best dealerships in the region, from all accounts he is a pretty good salesman.  Nice fit.  Who wouldn’t take it?”</p><p>Stoffel also questioned a mechanic, Robert Shwarzman.</p><p>“Yeah, he was on pretty bad terms with Seb.  Seb basically started running the place because he was trying to improve on things here.  It’s a very well renowned dealership, but between us, it’s pretty shit now.  My former boss, Kimi, straight up walked out.”</p><p>Stoffel picked up the call from Lewis. </p><p>“On my way back now.  Have you spoken to Vettel yet?”</p><p>“Hasn’t shown up.  Anything from the wife?”</p><p>“Told me to talk to a mechanic at Alfa Romeo.  Kimi’s his name.”</p><p>“Heard about him from one of the others.  Also we should talk to a McLaren salesman called Carlos Sainz.  Apparently Mattia arranged to meet him yesterday.”</p><p>“Ok, see you in a bit.”</p><p>Soon after, Lewis arrived at the dealership, and before Stof could tell him the rest of what he got from the two young men, a voice came from the doorway.</p><p>“Hey, what’s going on? I work here, why aren’t you letting me in?  It’s ridiculous, honestly!”</p><p>A man stood at the door, an angry expression directed at the poor constable standing there, who was apologising profusely.</p><p>“Sebastian Vettel?” asked Lewis.</p><p>The blonde man looked up.</p><p>“Who are you?”</p><p>“Detective Inspector Hamilton, Thames Valley.  I’m sorry to inform you that your boss, Mattia Binotto, was murdered this morning.”</p><p>Sebastian was a bit shocked by the bluntness.</p><p>“M-murdered?” he said hesitantly.</p><p>————</p><p>“Mr Vettel, where were you between the hours of 7:00 and 8:00?”</p><p>“You think I killed him?” Sebastian raised his voice.</p><p>“I never said that.  We ask everyone, just to get a better picture of things.” Lewis kept his voice calm and low, in stark contrast to the salesman in front of him.</p><p>“At home, sound asleep.”</p><p>“Can anyone confirm that?”</p><p>“No, I don’t think so.  I live in a condo, it has a concierge but he’s not usually in that early.” </p><p>“And you live alone?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“How was your relationship with Mattia?”</p><p>“Ok, I guess.  He was my boss, nothing more, nothing less.”</p><p>“Well, according to everyone we’ve spoken to so far, you seem to hate him.”</p><p>“Are you sure you’re not accusing me of anything?”</p><p>“I’m very sure, Mr Vettel.”</p><p>“When can we re-open?”</p><p>“Later this afternoon, I suppose, but who would be in charge?” Stoffel questioned.</p><p>“Me, of course.  I have the most experience, and I’m the top salesman here.” Sebastian replied, very matter-of-factly.”</p><p>———</p><p>“So, he hates the victim, stands to benefit from his death, and has a completely unproven alibi.  Not the greatest picture painted here.” </p><p>Stoffel and Lewis sat in a pub, sipping from their pints as they waited for dinner.</p><p>“Well, I need a couple more colours, Stoffel.  I think this Kimi fella has them.”</p><p>“Hope he’s got a lot to say then.”</p>
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